


I Tripped Over Satan

by Emikemta



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emikemta/pseuds/Emikemta
Summary: Perhaps it had not been such a good idea to drink that night after all...To be fair, she hadn't known it would lead to a deal with the Devil. Oops?





	1. Begin

There was a surprising lack of thoughts in her brain as she smeared the warm, sticky liquid in a futile attempt at removing it. No such luck, considering the only results were encouraging the thick fluid to seep further into her skin, dying patches of said skin a stark shade of crimson.

She was numb, as if her entire body and mind had been soaked in the numbing cream she could faintly remember receiving at the dentist's previously.

Her eyes were wide, her lip only starting to tremble as feeling crept back into her system, following the progression of standing once again.

The alcohol stirring in her system did not help her attempts at movement. Standing up had never seemed so difficult before, but she supposed that she had never had the weight of consequences looming above her in such an intensely terrifying and crippling manner. They were closing in on her more quickly the more she struggled against it, as if they were some sort of inescapable quicksand desperate to consume her weak, stumbling form.

The chilled air of late November nights caused coldness to seep into her bones, just as the blood had to her once white jacket.

A consentrated waft of a distinctly coppery smell drifted up into her nostrils, reminding her once again that she was not drenched in ketchup, but rather some sleazy bastard's life. Well, she and the red brick of that graffiti-smothered alley.

Memories of the disgustingly graphic scene caused bile to rise to the back of her throat where it hovered, the acid stinging consistently.

Glancing around, she attempted to think and, albeit a faint and debatably pathetic attempt, it was enough to identify the area. Knowing where she was didn't really matter though, considering that she was still completely unaware of where she was headed.

The pressuring subject of death still stood stagnant in her mind, the dark slumped figure lurking there removing her capacity for rational thought. So instead of thinking, she let her aching body carry her to the personal haven she was so familiar with. Luckily, she was able of navigating the dark streets by instinct alone.

About halfway between her and her destination, bile was replaced by the unmistakable texture of vomit. Without a second thought she doubled over on the concrete slabs of pavement and retched all over the side of 'Oasis Moon Bar & Nightclub', the fluorescent blue lights reflecting off the contents of her stomach. She detachedly recognised some small pieces of chewed up pasta from the microwave meal she'd eaten for dinner.

Somehow successfully making it back to her feet, she continued moving, ignoring the strong burning in her nasal passages and uneasy churning within her torso.

Her loose, uncoordinated movements became laboured as exhaustion set in; making her once light limbs heavy and almost crippling her progress.

Luckily, her destination was approaching on the left, the distinct lack of tall concrete structures providing a refreshing contrast to the rest of the neighbourhood. Unlike all that surrounded it, this was not a place of blurred neon or cheap liquor, cigarette stubs or short skirts. It was instead a place of content, reserved grief and private miseries and long-buried corpses.

Tracing her fingers along the cool metal of the wrought iron fence, her own slurred agonies steadied then proceeded to lay down before her amongst the filth of the modern world.

She felt shattered glass grind under her left heel and then her right, but she no longer cared. She had made it to the singular place she could say with certainty that she felt connected to.

Her body twisted to finally pass through the contorted metal archway. She kicked off her heels, her raw feet appreciatively stretching into the dewy grass underfoot.

There wasn't much distance between the entrance and the exact spot she wished to situate herself and, after her heels had been discarded, it was a significantly easier walk than the rest of the journey, yet that didn't make it a quick or easy process to walk over to it.

Light droplets of rain hit her scalp first, although it quickly burdened itself to dampen what of her arms hadn't become bloodied.

The gentle shower accelerated in strength to a substantial downpour, saturating the soft earth with water.

This newly malleable dirt lodged itself effortlessly between her toes as she slunk over it, struggling more on the sinking ground to retain her unsteady balance.

Her foot glided out of the dirt without warning, causing her to lurch forward to her knees. The shock sent her hands to scramble desperately for anything to soften the impact of her face against the solid marble of the large black statue before her. Her slimy hands slid straight down the marble, smearing faint red streaks along it's glassy surface. The red still coating her long fingers was mixing with the rainfall, draining away in diluted, shy pink streams.

At the base of the statue, she rolled slowly onto her back with a constricted groan crawling through gritted teeth. She sent a harsh glare up at the statue to reprimand it for letting her fall, only to be taken aback at the vivid depicted emotion etched into the marble, a clear sign of excellent craftsmanship. Pushing herself shakily into an upright position, she stretched out her arms to gently cup the cheeks of cool marble.

Pulling her body upwards, she brought her face up to stare directly into the agonised, tortured eyes of the figure.

The statue was of a beautiful male, crippled by misery. The male was stooped over on their knees, arms suspended midair and charred stumps protruding from their back between the sharp shoulder-blades. Their face was permanently captured in an expression of pure despair twisting it into a hauntingly tragic picture.

Every inch of the statue must have been painstakingly carved by the sculptor. The end result was definitely worthwhile, however, as it seemed as if the fallen angel himself had been encased in a paper-thin layer of tar.

The rain still persisted. The face of the angel appeared to have tears streaming down it, and although logic screamed that it was only the raindrops, she couldn't help but believe that there were true salty tears amongst the other streams of water.

It was then she noticed the heat upon her own face, springing from hot tears now running over her cheeks. Upon acknowledging her tears, her own misery and despair overflowing and cascading past her restraints and all the walls she had built up.

The weight of her actions proved to be too much.

She could no longer move. The gleaming white Christ statue she had been meaning to pray beneath a mere two rows away may as well have been in a different universe.

Crumbling into a small ball she then started to sob with the anguished figure of Satan.

 


	2. Him

She sat in a decent apartment, patiently awaiting her guest for the evening. She couldn't remember who exactly it was, but she had an overwhelming sensation that they were important in some way or another; possibly a businessman or someone of the sort.

Irritation grated at her. She felt that she had already waited a long while, although she had no memory of when it was that she had begun.

Time passed without notice. She could have been sitting there for anywhere from minutes to days and she wouldn't have known any difference. While time drifted by, however, she did notice the details of the room she was waiting in gradually becoming more vivid - it was like a haze was finally lifting itself. A black-rimmed clock hung on the wall placidly, its handles completely stationary... as if time had stopped altogether.

The mirage cleared, seemingly in response to her observation of the stagnancy of time within the strange environment.

Even more time passed, and she started to notice the smaller, more insignificant intricacies becoming increasingly apparent around her.

She noticed how soft the bed covers were, how easily she sank into them, and the textures of the fabric against her skin.

She noticed the soft golden light cascading through swaying thin white curtains, of which gave the room an almost ethereal glow.

She noticed the chocolate brown leather of the loveseat adjacent to the bed. The leather looked slightly worn on one side, but brand new on the other.

She also noticed a row of three paintings along the back wall, painted in immaculate detail. She was sure they hadn't been there earlier, certain within herself she would not have missed the in her initial observations. The first painting was of a flower garden, with many insects and butterflies flitting about. The second was of a singular snake slithering over scorching desert sand. The third was a rainforest scene containing a plethora of animals, from exotic birds to large fish splashing about.

The paintings were surely created by the same artist. Every inch of textured paint seemed to writhe with life, as if it were merely trapped behind a glass pane and in fact existed on the other side. Reason struggled with her eyes as she tried to settle on which explanation to adopt. Unsure, she glanced back to the unmoving clock for any hint of the time.

It was then that the warm light streaming through the curtains vanished, transforming the room into a dim, yet cosy, setting. She heard the gentle pattering of rain hitting glass.

She returned her sights to the loveseat in front of her only to receive an exciting change in her environment.

A thin, straggly wisp of dense black smoke hovered above the sofa, swirling in the still air. As it twisted, it rapidly gained mass, soon forming a large spiralling column of thick smoke the exact same shade as coal.

In a swift moment, the smoke collapsed back in on itself, seemingly condensing into the shape of a figure seated on the worn side of the sofa.

Small chips of what appeared to be paint gently lifted off of the surface of whatever it was, revealing flashes of colour on the figure. Red. Midnight black. Tan. Gold.

Then she realised her guest had arrived, and stared intently at the face smirking at her, amusement now flickering in his eyes rather than misery.

His eyes were intense crystal blue orbs situated on a beautifully handsome face, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw, long lashes lining his stunning blue eyes, a straight roman nose and a strong brow. His skin was pale and flawless, adding contrast against his full pink lips. His gelled hair was jet black, making his skin appear far paler in tone.

He was in a fairly classic suit; a black jacket and trousers, with a deep red shirt. She could see a gold watch poking out of the left jacket sleeve. Even his shoes looked intimidatingly expensive.

The aura radiating off of him was overwhelmingly muddled, a mixture of dangerous, powerful, poisonous and extremely seductive.

"You're the Devil, aren't you?" she asked quietly, her voice meekly wavering above a whisper. It seemed more of a statement than a question, even to herself.

He let out a slight laugh, his head falling forward but his eyes peering up at her through his lashes. He then moved to prop his head on one hand, tilting it whilst flashing her a charming wide mouthed smile.

_"I'm here to offer you a proposition, sweetheart."_

His voice was deep and grating, a surprisingly sensual combination she found to be reminiscent of a cat's purr. It wasn't unpleasant, yet it still sent chills down her spine.

"I can give you everything you desire," he started, his rumbling voice turning seductive in tone. "pleasures so great they'll blow your mind."

He narrowed his eyes and softly bit his lower lip, a gentle moan echoing from his throat. She felt a shot of heat flare within her in response whilst her brain attempted to comprehend his words fully.

"You can't even begin to imagine the euphoria you could experience... but more importantly, I'm offering you something only I can."

The curiosity already held within her spiked. She watched as he shifted again, eyes wide like a cat's.

"I'm offering you immortality, with a new life to live."

All the air in her lungs was immediately knocked out in a smooth hit, delivered by the Devil's tongue.

"W-what's the price?" she stammered, hope blooming in her chest for the future for the first time in too long.

He grinned, this time a sly cheeky grin.

"All you have to do is complete the odd task for me every now and again. That's it."

It sounded far too buttery, far too sweet, even in the willing and malleable state she was in.

It was a pretty truth that sounded significantly false.

She took a moment to ponder on her options. Should she take this risk; should she really make a dealwith the Devil himself?

Then again, her life had already gone to shit so what choice did she really have?

The rich purple of bruises, too often seen, along with the crimson alleyway flashed through her mind.

"What kind of tasks would they be?" she questioned, trying not to be apparent regarding her interest in his proposition.

"Well... they'd rarely be anything too extreme. Just small things I can't be bothered to do myself, or don't particularly feel like doing. Like persuading a certain person to bet more money or something." he explained, sounding increasingly uninterested and drained as he continued. Clearly the mere thought of these mediocre actions bored him relentlessly.

They both sat there for a little while as she decided. It didn't sound like a bad deal to her at all, but she would be putting her soul on the line for it.

The thought didn't terrify her as much as it should have.

She felt no nerves as she gave Satan her answer.

"I accept your offer."

With four simple words, she sealed her fate as the Devil's worker.

He wasted no time in jumping to his feet, mumbling a quick "Let's get started then." on his way towards the paintings. He moved with speed and an in-explainable grace to his movements, as one may have expected from a Tiger or Panther moving swiftly towards unsuspecting pray.

To say she was confused by that point, well... that'd be quite the understatement. She had not a single clue as to what was happening. She had expected, well no- she hadn't known what to expect but whatever that would have been it certainly wouldn't have been what lay before her eyes.

She watched carefully as Lucifer's arm phased directly through the material of the snake/desert painting. Confusion quickly transitioned into fear when his arm retracted from the painting with a snake in his hand. **A FECKIN SNAEK**.

Clearly her face had screamed 'WHAT THE FUCK' loudly enough for Lucifer continued to send her a wink with his fiery eyes, adding on a small "calm down, he won't bite" to soothe her blatantly blaring survival instincts.

To be fair, she was deathly afraid of snakes.

This did not prevent her from stiffening her body and locking every joint as Satan sat next to her on the soft bed on which she perched.

With a gentle, feathery touch Lucifer lifted her left arm, uttering quiet words of comfort as he inched the snake closer to her skin.

She shut her eyes when the snake was within centimetres of her skin, and jumped when she felt cold scales touch her forearm. 

The snake was a bulky weight on her arm that seemed to move without reason, following an invisible doodle around her arm. Luckily it soon settled and remained still, lightly squeezing around her upper arm just below the shoulder.

A faint prickling sensation ignited under the snake along the join of her skin and the snake's.

It wasn't until the weight on her arm had alleviated that she opened her eyes again.

The snake was nowhere in sight, but there was a major difference in the appearance of her arm.

Where the snake had last been, there was instead the shadow in midnight black ink tattooed onto her skin. Her eyes widened, her head automatically looking up to Lucifer questioningly.

When they made eye contact, he merely grinned.

"Do you like it?" he asked before laughing, likely at her expression or something of the sort. Her face must have answered for her. **No she did not**.

"I have something that'll make it all better." he answered, his fingers reaching out to the base of her chin, pushing up slightly to tilt her head upwards and to the side. There was no resisting his touch. His other hand rose to sweep her hair back and out of the way. 

Her eyes shut once again. She felt his hot breath hit the side of her neck before warm flesh pressed itself just behind her ear. Instantly the prickling sensation began there, only amplified into a searing pain. 

A strangled mew rose in her throat at the pain, her closed eyes creasing as her brow furrowed.

Her head became airy. She knew the sensation; she was beginning to pass out.

"I forgot to mention something. To transition into your new body, you'll need to commit suicide. I probably..."

The remaining spoken words did not register however, as by the time they had been spoken she had already passed out.

The Devil released a sigh as he discontinued his words, instead watching her form crumple onto the bed beneath it.


	3. Bridge

When she awoke, it was to the sensation of wet grass on her cheek and a stiff aching in her joints, likely due to the awkward position she had slept in. There was also a steady pounding in her skull, certainly a result of the alcohol from however many hours previously.

It didn't seem like a dream. She could remember everything in vivid detail without that fog over her memories.

As everything churned in her mind, she did not move. Instead, she contemplated her interaction with the Devil, following through their conversation.

Surprisingly enough she didn't regret agreeing to the deal. In fact she was glad she took the opportunity. Waking up to see the filthy and ruined scraps her life had delved to gave her the clarity in her decision she hadn't had then.

When she reached the memory of the snake tattoo, she checked her arm. The stark black ink was still evident on her skin.

Then she checked her neck.

Tracing her fingertips over the area, she identified small ridges of raised skin. Some followed circular patterns or intersected with straight lines. She couldn't identify what the shapes made.

The skin was apparently sensitive as she shivered at the sensation of her nail grazing over it.

The physical remnants of her deal cemented its reality within her, meaning she no longer doubted its legitimacy.

At that point Lucifer's final words to her registered in her busy brain.

The knowledge that she'd have to kill herself weighed heavily on her shoulders. The first signs of regret revealed themselves as her mind twisted from burdened to troubled.

Then again, she should have expected something like this.

After all, if you want to claim a new life you'd need to give up your old one.

A revelation dawned upon her: it was less that she feared letting go of her life, but more the fact that she'd have to experience the pain of dying that made her reluctant to move forward.

The pain would be worth the promised result, surely.

Starting as a deep exhale, an anguished wail escaped her lips as her head found it's way to her hands.

How the fuck had she ended up here, sitting in the dirt of a fucking cemetery ready to kill herself for the **damned Devil?!** Where exactly did she fuck up that badly??

The numerous mistakes and regrets of her short, miserable life swirled around her mind.

Sadly the body she had left in that alley was merely the latest of one thousand agonizing moments that decided to rear their hideous faces.

Her eyes pricked with a fresh round of unshed tears, but determination prevented them from falling.

Her gaze steeled as her mind settled in acceptance of her fate.

She got to her feet, not bothering to look for her heels, and pattered her way back to the road.

For a while, she walked without direction, merely letting her feet take her where she wished to go. As she walked, she thought about what she had to do before she died.

It was a sucker punch to the gut when she realised there was no-one that cared about her deeply enough for her to say goodbye to them.

She passed building after building after building - the innumerable faces that passed by on the street were blurred by static, no longer holding any significance to her.

Her feet carried her aimlessly for over an hour after that until she was no longer in the city centre.

Upon reaching the outskirts, she finally stopped. The sheen of sweat on her skin felt almost sticky and chilled her in the cool winds.

Gazing before her, she knew she had found the place to end this life.

A hazy mist obscured the grand bridge before her, smearing the landscape with an opaque grey. The moisture carried in the air was pleasant against her heated skin.

The view over the water was prettier than ever; only slight indications of the churning river were visible, causing it to seem welcoming to those who knew no better.

The metal railings were cold and wet under her palm, causing her to slip around slightly as she climbed over.

Her mouth turned upwards at the corners, forming a slight crazed smile. The steady breathing she had maintained until this point turned shaky as she glanced down at the black frothing mass far beneath her, occasionally peeking through the mist.

She knew she had to do this, but that didn't exactly make it easier.

Fear clawed at her and she almost wanted to go back home, forget the whole thing. She understood that she couldn't.

Sucking in a deep breath, her eyes fluttered shut as cool air entered her lungs.

Then she let go.

Terror ignited into her flailing limbs as she tumbled through the empty air. The seconds it took to reach the water seemed to stretch into an eternity. So many regrets flashed before her in that time.

She should have said goodbye to someone after all, even if they didn't really care.

Contact with the river caused a ricochet of pain to reverberate throughout her entire body. It was as if the water had been carved concrete instead.

The striking cold of the water shocked her body as it consumed her broken form. She gasped instinctively, immediately regretting it when a meaty portion of river struggled down her throat. It burned in her oesophagus. The sensation was that of snorting water - that warm burn in your nasal passages that makes your eyes water - only amplified extortionately.

Her survival instincts were in full control, flailing her limbs as her mouth desperately gulped at the freezing air then the freezing water.

It wasn't long before she began tiring, the numbing temperatures and constant repetition of 'air-no air' taking its toll on her body.

Her body stopped breaking through the surface  of the water as her limbs shut down. She sank lower into the unrelenting current, her body completely consumed.

She stared at the shimmering sun through the water, watching its shapes dance yet only able to process the fact that there was fresh air right there, just out of her reach.

It hurt so much.

Her lungs were on fire, filled with ice and desperate for oxygen. 

A terrifying darkness began to corrode her vision and her mind as her struggling ceased.

She was left suspended in the water, all sirens in her head blaring that she was dying, and all she felt was fear.

Then the pain faded into nothing as her brain stopped yelling.

Her eyes remained open, but they were lumps of unseeing useless flesh now. 

She was dead.

 


	4. Mika

Her new body was spectacular.

From the moment she awoke, she was able to move perfectly well, and there was no pain whatsoever. It was pure bliss in comparison to dying.

The body listened to her when she raised her hand in front of her face.

Her skin appeared soft and fairly pale, littered by the odd freckle here and there. The skin of her forearm had a slight layer of fuzz - small brown hairs that didn't stand out, but weren't invisible either.

Her hands were moderate in size, with long fingers and veiny contours extending down the back of both hands.

The veins of her slim wrist were a mix of green and blue; a teal ocean trapped beneath the body's largest organ.

The feature that stood out most, however, was the stark black ink of a snake tattoo wrapping around her wrist. She couldn't discern whether it signified her presence or was there coincidentally, but didn't let that bother her. It didn't matter to her either way. She liked the tattoo regardless.

She dropped her arm and pulled her body upright, feeling the muscles in her abdomen tighten as they easily moved her. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed, placing her feet flat against a soft white rug.

Her body was light and strong, shifting with ease. She noticed a lack of fat around her middle as she sat upright, her belly folding only slightly. The movement caused a slight rush of air to brush past the small hairs on the back of her neck.

She stood up, taking in the undoubtedly expensive decor. Opposite her was a large pair of curtains stretching down the length of the wall, a soft golden glow illuminating the room through them. The wall facing the bed contained large doors made from a polished dark wood, which she assumed led further into the home.

When she turned around to see behind her, a grin stretched her mouth at the sight.

Multiple chairs lay either side of a small island with a quartz countertop, which in turn lay quite a way in front of a massive walk-in wardrobe that occupied the full length of the back wall. There was a lone door tucked in the corner, discreet in appearance in comparison to the rest of the room.

The wardrobe was full to the brim with clothes, each of which looked to cost more than she earned in a year. It was well organised, with each item of clothing belonging in defined sub-groups within the wardrobe.

The styling of the room was modern and sleek, but lacking in individuality. It told her nothing other than that she possessed wealth.  

She wondered what job would enable her to live such a luxurious lifestyle, or if she was living off of a hefty inheritance.

Her excitement expressed itself in a small shuffle of joy that could not be expressed with words.

Readjusting the strap of her silk nightgown, she walked to the double doors and pushed them open.

A long carpeted hallway stretched out before her, multiple doorways littering the walls. At the end of the hallway stood a large thick column of glass and metal, with a spiral staircase snaked snugly around it, molding into the floor where it met it's edge. There appeared to be an opening in the glass, and a button lay embedded in the section of metal frame to the right. An immense wall of curved glass lay beyond that, giving a stunning view of the city beneath. The plump, decked gardens outside gave way to a steep decline that allowed her to spy the tiny buildings of the city below, which stretched the width of the horizon. She instantly found herself anticipating the night-time view.

Some irrefutably overpriced paintings decorated the lengths of wall between doorways, varying in both style and subject. She found most of them to be of bad taste, unlike her room, leading to the conclusion they were purchased more for possible company, rather than her personally.

Her voice sprung up, a soft sound of disapproval emanating from her throat. This gave her an idea.

"Mika." she tested.

Her new name seemed the most appropriate of test material, and the name fit snugly on her tongue. Her lips felt full as they pressed together to form the 'm' sound, and luckily her mouth didn't feel overly large as it widened into an 'ee' sound.

Her voice was extremely pleasant, and nowhere near as pitchy and whiny as she had expected. Instead, it was fairly deep and exquisitely sultry due to it's smooth, full, intimate sound. It felt as refined as the rest of her. Satisfied with her voice, she continued the exploration of her home.

As she peeked through the first door, she became aware of a craving within herself. There was something she was looking for, even if she didn't know what that was.

She was missing something.

Barely sparing a glance at the room, she decided to see if she lived with anyone. That would be vital information, wouldn't it?

She turned on her heel and opened the door on the right. A bathroom, no signs of life within.

The next couple of doors on the right were rather sparse bedrooms, leading her to believe they were for guests. Opposite those was what appeared to be a study of some sort, but she didn't pry.

Instead, she moved speedily to the spiral staircase, quickly jogging down to the ground floor.

Upon closer inspection, the column of glass and metal was identified as an elevator shaft.

She had a personal elevator.

Her grin returned at the price tag that particular item would have been attached to.

As she neared the base of the stairs, the glint of a full-length mirror caught her eyes, and she stole the first glimpse of her appearance.

Raven hair was in a messy, slept-in bun atop her head, making her pale skin appear paler still. Pewter grey eyes peered at her, silvery grey highlights shining curiously. Thick lashes lined both eyes. Her nose was dainty and dusted with freckles over the bridge. Her lips were a pretty pink, and just as full as she'd imagined.

The sound of a low, loose exhale snapped her head to the right, where she stared into the living room.

A crop of black hair was the first thing she saw. Her eyes traveled down, absorbing the sight of a man's profile.

Following down from his head was a slim, toned body, currently stretched out in a comfortable position. His clothes were casual and designed for comfort.

Her heart thumped in her chest as her gaze returned to the face - so intently focused that it hadn't yet noticed her.

Her feelings were too strong for them to not have been intimate, as evidenced by the tingling between her legs. The fact that she was growing aroused by merely laying eyes on the male told her all she needed to know, leading her to concede to her body's desires.

She walked over to the male, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her arms around him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and lightly inhaling his scent.

The rumbles of his laughter vibrated through his chest, his arms closing around her.

_"Hey,_ _**sis** _ _."_

This was said in a playful tone, but it caused her entire body to momentarily tense as memories unfurled before her.

They walked together, hands interlocked, much younger, returning home from school. She skipped along beside him, skirt swaying and backpack hopping on her back.

In the next moment, they were laughing together, swinging back and forth, out late at the park to avoid going back home - their father would be home by then. Ghosts of wind ran circles around her, just as it had then. 

The memories morphed again. Flashes of intimate exchanges overtook her. His lips on burning skin, the caresses of his fingers, the echoes of moans and feelings and _pleasure;_ indescribable, overwhelming pleasure.

It was a lot to take in, yet she couldn't bring herself to pull away from his embrace. The immense warmth in her heart glowed too strongly, chasing away everything but her love for him.

"I missed you." she mumbled, her hot breath bouncing off his skin to fan over her face.

She couldn't prevent her lips from pressing a light kiss into his neck, to which he drew away, craning his neck to capture her lips with his own.

There was something distinct about the way he kissed - soft and gentle, yet firm and dominating - that caused her to release a small hum of appreciation at the long-missed sensation.

Her heart thumped weightily in her chest as their lips detached.

His pale blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, laughing lightly. The sound was soothing, and she wished she could store it somehow.

"I don't usually get such a greeting. What's up with you?" he said, his gaze wandering casually over her face.

"I guess I'm just emotional, haha." she replied, lifting a hand to rest just under his ear. "Don't worry about it."

In truth, her heart hurt for a reason she couldn't discern, and unshed tears were stinging her eyes. The weight of her love for the man before her was crushing and all-consuming.

She had never felt love so strong before, and frankly, she was scared to death.

She knew she was already in over her head, but there was no going back. She would do anything for him, even if that meant doing the devil's deeds.

After all, how bad could it get?


	5. Familiar Habits

Night shrouded the room where she lay.

Mika was not asleep. She couldn't sleep; not then, after everything.

Thoughts churned in her mind as she silently watched her brother sleep. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the limited light, and she guessed it was well into the hours of early morning.

She felt dirty and unclean due to the knowledge that came with the day. Her body had done a vile thing, and yet she was certain she would repeat it's mistakes.

It unnerved her to think of how much she'd changed over the past couple of days.

The red alley still haunted her.

Reflecting, she supposed incest wasn't the worst sin she'd committed, and she found it doubtful it'd be the last.

Suddenly restless, she needed to get out. The large space was suffocating her.

As silently as possible, she slipped out of the covers and padded across to the wardrobe, pulling on random items of clothing. This time, she noticed a section of distinctly male clothing.

After spotting and grabbing a feminine-looking wallet, she picked up a pair of boots, quickly running out the room.

Her brother's keys lay on the coffee table near the door. Unable to remember where her own were, she grabbed his.

The night air made her shiver, yet she revelled in it. The chill cleared her mind, and some of her frantic energy was already being dispelled. She stole deep breaths and exhaled slowly as she began walking.

Automatic lights lit up the porch and past that, there was a large expanse of gravel. Small lights outlined a road connecting to the substantial gravel driveway. The road stretched away from the house, guarded by a dense barrier of trees. The trees shielded it either side and most likely acted as a privacy barrier of sorts.

Mika didn't feel like exploring the grounds, so crossed the driveway and started following the road away from her home.

Mika had not yet dug up any memories, other than those brief flashes earlier that day - no, the day before - so had no clue where she was or where she was headed. She didn't care though, and there were no signs of anxiety telling her she was making a mistake.

The initial calming effect was wearing off, however, and the troublesome thoughts that had kept her awake were quickly resurfacing.

With a deep sigh, Mika decided she'd have to employ other methods to fully relax.

The gravel driveway intersected with a lone road, uniform streetlights spaced evenly along the road edge. The woodland continued as far as she could see to the right, but appeared to clear a ways away to the left. Twinkling lights let her know that there were people in that direction.

An idea popped into her head as she watched the delicate lights sparkling in the sea of blue and black. Her mind itched where an old habit lay, patiently waiting to be found.

Her feet carried her towards the lights, protecting her from the numb monotony of her surroundings.

For once, she had a shield between her and the cruel, vile world. Her shield was her love, and her shield had protected this body since she was very young. She could tell as much even without memories.

The thoughts of her love lifted her spirits slightly. She wanted to turn around and run back to the warm figure under the covers, but the itching in her brain continued.

Yet again, the relief vanished, pulled beneath her by gnarled hands.

Her step faltered.

Thoughts seeped like poison onto her lips.

"Loving him is vile, so I cannot love." she chanted, reciting a long-engrained message.

For a moment she wondered how her body's previous owner managed to make it so long.

She continued along the road, heading left, completely unaware of her surroundings as she stumbled through the maze of her mind.

In an instant, she found herself at the city edge. Bright lights struck her eyes as she emerged from both the dark lane and her daze.

There were no signs of people, which she found strange for such a seemingly large city. She was at the city edge though, so dismissed any suspicion.

On the far side of a small stone bridge, bright lights shone before her, each of varying colour.

A certain red light caught her attention; 'LIQUOR'.

Her brain itched again.

She walked to the neon sign that seemed so familiar. Her feet took her through the door unconsciously, and she didn't attempt to stop them. She did stop, however, when a certain bottle caught her eye.

Her fingers reached for the bottle, before clasping around the glass neck firmly.

Walking idly through the store, she took her time reaching the counter. She knew that she was familiar with the store, but it frustrated her to no end that she still had barely a handful of memories to cling to.

At the counter, the clerk gave her a warm smile as she placed the bottle down and pulled out the wallet from her pocket, where it had been unceremoniously stuffed before she left.

"Going for the usual I see." the clerk said in a friendly tone.

She replied with an absent hum of agreement, handing over her money. The clerk gave her her change and waved her off as she exited, bottle in hand.

Once outside, unsure where to go, Mika began to walk back towards home.

The walls either side of the bridge extended past the water edge, and as she passed she found herself pausing alongside the gentle stream.

It seemed as good a spot as any to exist.

She turned, propping her arms up on the wall and leaning on them. The water was reflecting the various lights, causing a beautiful collection of colours to sway gently before her.

A sense of serenity settled over her like a thin veil, her thoughts flowing out of her.

Her gaze meandered to the bottle in her hand. The top was a screw-cap, which meant she could easily open it there and then. She decided to do so.

Once the bottle was open, she placed the cap on the bridge edge and raised the bottle rim to her lips.

_"Hey."_

Mika jumped harshly, choking on the alcohol entering her throat. The shock caused the burning liquid to enter the wrong hole, and she coughed violently in an attempt to prevent the alcohol from reaching her lungs.

"Fuck!" she spluttered, turning her face to meet the eyes of the figure standing at her side.

Lucifer sneered, snickering at her pained form.

"You know, a certain someone back home, luckily asleep, helped you break your drinking habit. I doubt brother dearest would be too happy to find out you started again." his deep voice rumbled.

Mika frowned at the bottle in hand, hesitantly placing it on the bridge wall.

"What do you want anyway?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she avoided his gaze. Her eyes refused to meet his while her cheeks still burned scarlet with shame.

"Well." he spoke, sounding as if he either didn't know or couldn't remember.

Lucifer eyed the now-abandoned bottle and decided he was devilishly thirsty. Mika watched the elegant wave of his hand as he claimed the bottle by the neck, along with the small swoop of bringing the bottle to his lips. She watched in mild awe, intrigued in how he made the simple act of drinking appear sinful. She also couldn't help but appreciate the plumpness of his lips as they wrapped around the top of the bottle. It was almost saddening to see those lips detach again.

"I have your first task." he said, punctuating his words with a cheeky grin. Mika did not trust the ever-present mischief on his face, but wasn't sure whether it was due to the upcoming task or the person.

"Two creatures will visit you in a few hours that I need you to watch over; an incubus and a demon's child. You are to give them rooms and take care of them for the foreseeable future. Do you understand?"

Mika nodded, earning a smile.

"Good girl." 

Lucifer patted her head lightly, as one would to a dog or child, but it didn't feel condescending. Instead, the gesture radiated genuine gratitude, which surprised Mika.

Lucifer pulled back, straightening his suit jacket, bottle still firmly in hand.

"I must be on my way now, but if you ever need me I'll visit. Have fun~"

Mika blinked, and he vanished. The words on her tongue quickly died, the thought of her task quickly filling her mind.

She felt very curious about her to-be guests. How did you even go about taking care of a demon anyway?

Armed with a purpose, Mika returned home feeling more anxious than when she had left. Her mind remained busy for the duration of her return journey, right until she reached the softly lit driveway.

The front door didn't creak, thank god, and there was no sign of her brother. She carefully returned the keys where she had found them before sneaking upstairs. Opening the bedroom door, she let out a slight puff of relief when she saw her brother was still fast asleep. As quietly as possible, she returned herself to how she'd been before leaving and slipped back under the covers.

Snuggling up to the warm body beside her, Mika closed her eyes and released the tense breath blocking her throat.

The day was sure to be interesting.


End file.
